


Under My Skin

by ChilledLime



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, Unus Annus - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: AU where whatever's written on skin appears on their soulmate's, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Oblivious Mark, Slow Burn, Somewhat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28021044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChilledLime/pseuds/ChilledLime
Summary: His soulmate, whoever the fucker was, would not stop using their arm as a sheet of notes. Hastily scribbled pen on the inside of his palms, wrists, the crook of his elbow - it went on.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 63
Kudos: 585





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this will probably have the slowest updates of all my fics just because holidays are coming up

Everyone shared skin with someone. While there were rare cases of people never receiving messages - it could always be boiled down to their soulmate not wanting to write to them. It’d been theorized that some unseeable force would push them together, like a child playing with dolls; the participants wanting or not. The way writing on one would appear on the other was just… an added bonus. 

Some accepted it, some rejoiced in it, some rejected it and shunned it. Covering their skin at all times. Others took advantage of it - writing back and forth, exchanging stories and names and ways to contact each other. Some ignored it. 

Mark pulled his flannel’s sleeves further down his arm with a grimace, trudging through the cold to his next class. His soulmate,  _ whoever the fucker was,  _ would  _ not  _ stop using their arm as a sheet of notes. Hastily scribbled pen on the inside of his palms, wrists, the crook of his elbow - it went on. It had happened a few times before, but nothing to this scale. It made him look like he was about to go and cheat in his next class, which he _wasn't, thank you very much._

All of the sorry excuses for notes seemed to be some sort of math, though Mark had long since given up trying to understand what they meant. His soulmate’s handwriting sucked, somehow even worse than his own. They had started writing to him when he was 15, seeming giddy and excited at the premise of someone fated to be theirs. Mark had a girlfriend at the time. He didn’t want some rando who could write on his arms. Didn’t need them - he still doesn't.

Sitting down in his normal seat, he pulled his laptop out of the bag and set it on the table in front of him. The lecture had already started, but catching up wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Mark was in the middle of pulling up a document to take notes, when he saw another sentence in the process of being written. It was peeking out from under the cuff, causing him to bite back a groan of frustration - but he couldn’t help to read it. 

_ sorry for making your arms into an answer sheet, I promise I’ll wash them off tonight. - E _

Mark had seen them sign with it a few times before, but never their full name. Without thinking it through, he took out a ballpoint pen and replied. 

_ It’s fine.  _

He really did feel bad for whoever they were. Mark really wasn’t into the idea of being forced to love someone, let alone a complete stranger. The media romanticized it to no end, and for every ya romance novel written his heart grew a little colder to the thought. But he wasn’t going to be downright rude to them - they didn’t ask to be stuck with a person who didn’t want it. 

Watching out of the corner of his eye, they wrote again. 

_ sorry  _

His gut twinged with guilt.

* * *

Some people have theorized that soulmates had an innate connection to their other half’s emotions, besides the fact they basically shared skin. Mark had always thought it was bullshit, until now. They were doodling - small simple clouds, swirls, nothing too complex. To anyone but Mark it would seem that they were happy, but he knew otherwise.  Stress was churning in his stomach, a feeling he knew wasn’t his own. He was sitting on the carpet of his dorm, playing on the console he had brought with him. There was no reason to be stressed - and that’s how he knew the stories weren’t all complete lies. 

Eventually, the feeling overtook him, and he  _ had  _ to try and calm them down. (For his own sake, of course.) Setting down the controller, he grabbed a pen off the notebook he had been writing in earlier. 

_ What’s up?  _

Mark tried to keep it sounding friendly, despite not feeling in the mood to be. A beat. They replied. 

_ finals. I feel like I’m about to fail this class. I kinda figured this would happen eventually.  _

_ Why are you in class? It’s like 9 pm.  _

_ I’m not _

_ studying  _

Their responses were getting shorter and shorter, the feeling intensifying.  _ Great.  _ He really wasn’t in the mood to be a personal therapist tonight. But it was too late to back out now. 

_ Okay. What is it? Maybe I can help.  _

A few of the drawings from earlier were fading rapidly - they were washing them away. 

_ it’s just history. focusing on shit is hard, let alone memorization.  _

_ I don’t think you can help with that _

_ sorry  _

_ You don’t need to keep apologizing, it’s okay.  _

Mark could practically feel their hesitation, probably wanting to repeat it. 

_ ok _

_ I think I’m going to try and sleep _

_ would you give me your name?  _

Sadness replaced the stress. The feelings were clouded, like they were on the other side of a wall - just barely able to be felt. Mark frowned. He had avoided this question the one time it had been asked before, not wanting to give them reasons to be attached. They weren’t going to meet, anyway. He’d make sure of that. 

_ Sorry. _

He didn’t reply after that, ignoring the writing appearing on his arm and covering them up with a hoodie. Mark knew he was being an asshole, and had conflicting emotions over it almost every time he and his soulmate wrote to each other. There was a reason he ignored them. 

Thoughts of them swirled in his head unwantedly as he fell asleep.

* * *

The time between them writing specifically to him grew longer and longer in between. Drawings would still appear on his arms and thighs from time to time, the occasional to do note or answers to a test joining them. But E had stopped reaching out to him.  _ Good.  _ His heart almost cried at the lack of connection, but Mark had figured out how to avoid feeling it. He wouldn’t be a slave to his instincts. 

_ I think _

_ this will be the last time I write to you. _

_ I’m sorry for being your soulmate _

_ I know you don’t want one _

_ I can feel it _

_ I’m also sorry about feeling what you feel. _

_ -E _

Meeting Ethan was an experience. 

Two backflips later, some conversations over Twitter, and he was being flown out to L.A. to work for him. Mark saw potential in young eyes - along with him just being insanely funny. 

They clicked like puzzle pieces, yin and yang, black and white - it was honestly a lot for him to take in. He had expected to become friends with Ethan, yes, obviously, but not  _ this much.  _ Going from editor to friend to co-host of a channel, all in the span of a few years (It had felt like only days) It was easy for Mark to get caught up in the moment of it all, swept away by bright hazel eyes and gentle smiles. 

Soulmates hadn’t even crossed his mind, to be honest. Sure, sometimes there’d be the odd doodle here and there; but even those eventually stopped appearing. Mark was sure they’d said to hell with him, and found themselves someone who could love them in a way he never could. Sometimes, late at night when he was alone, his heart yearned for them; thumping out of his chest like it wanted to escape. 

He didn’t even know their goddamn  _ name.  _ All he had was “E” which was extremely unhelpful. But it wasn’t like he wanted to know them, anyway. Fuck soulmates and fuck fate. Mark was going to live his life however he goddamn wanted, and love whoever the Hell he wanted. (Or at least that’s what he told himself.) Ethan was fun, he was having fun with his channel. It was all great.

Except for when he pried. 

“Question,” Ethan spoke, not looking up from his phone. “Hm?” Mark hummed, turning to glance at the boy. They had just finished up another one of Mark’s big charity streams, Ethan having not left yet. “D’you ever think about soulmates?” 

Mark froze. 

“I mean, the concept is just so  _ interesting.”  _ He continued, oblivious to the look on the man’s face. “Someone you’re literally destined to be with. It’s an exciting prospect.”  _ Prospect?  _ “It definitely is.” Mark replied through gritted teeth, turning so his back was to the other. “Do you talk to yours often?”

“No.”

“Oh. That’s a shame.” Ethan seemed to pick up on the vibe he was giving off. Jealousy swirled in Mark’s chest, at the sheer thought of someone else being with Ethan.  _ Why?  _ “Well, if it makes you feel better, I don’t talk to mine either. They don’t want me too, so.” He immediately felt a little better, in some horrible way. 

Mark really didn’t want to pry into those feelings, not now or ever. 

He spoke up again. “They must be lucky, huh. Soulmates with the _ great Mark Fischbach.”  _ Ethan said it in a joking tone, but something about it rubbed Mark the wrong way. “They really aren’t, I’m not really interested in soulmates; to be quite honest.” 

It was easy to say that. It was the truth, after all. Ethan made a noise of acknowledgement, and left it at that. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how long this thing will be I'm just goin for it  
> also ty so much for all the love on the previous chapter, it means the world to me :}

Mark’s feelings were betraying him. The fact that Ethan had admitted he wasn't on speaking (writing?) terms made his head spin.  _ If he didn't want his, and Ethan couldn't have his….?  _ The thoughts seemed sinful, not from their inherent un-straight nature but how it felt he would be taking advantage of the situation. Hell, Ethan could still be recovering from the blow that his soulmate didn't want him could've caused. 

It didn't  _ seem  _ like a sore subject when it had been brought up, but Mark could never be too careful. 

Still, he couldn't help but test the limits a bit. His "Don't touch me" bit faded hastily, casual touches increasing. Brushes of his hand on the small of Ethan's back, hugs lasting just a moment longer than he would've before, just  _ more _ . Shoulder touches were a favorite. Pats, rubs, pokes. He wanted to touch Ethan. Lucky for him, the boy was inherently a contact-driven individual, and had happily obliged to return his not-so-platonic affections (but he didn't know that part) 

They hadn’t talked about soulmates after the conversation, instead settling for ignoring it. Or at least Mark did.

* * *

Touchy. Mark was being touchy. It wasn’t like Ethan was going to  _ object _ to it, far from it. But it was weird. After their conversation, it was like a switch had been flipped. 

After what he had dubbed, "The Incident" with his soulmate; Ethan had quickly decided it wasn't going to work out. And yeah, even though there was undeniable evidence that soulmates were  _ real _ , he couldn't shake the feeling that maybe they weren't meant for him. His arm itched at the thought, and he idly scratched it. Maybe everyone who didn't want one should've been paired off together - so people like Ethan wouldn't get stuck with people.. 

The boy swallowed, letting his arm fall back down to the side. He knew it was pretty unrealistic to find a partner aside from your soulmate in this world. Everyone had either found them, or was looking for them. Even people who didn't want them still ended up finding them. It was the inescapable fate. Sometimes even he could faintly feel their emotions. Small bursts of excitement, joy, and something that felt suspiciously like  _ love.  _ They were happier without him.

Sitting back down at his recording desk (from where he was standing in the hallway lost in thought) he felt his eyes water. He sniffled, wiping them away before they could fall. It felt hopeless. 

Most of the time he was okay with it. He could joke and laugh, and ignore the pain in his chest at seeing others with their fated. Deep down he  _ knew  _ his thoughts shouldn't revolve around the sheer idea of his other half; and they didn't, most of the time. He recorded videos - what he should be doing now - he hung out with his friends, he had Spencer. Life was good. 

He could pretend the ache of his heart didn't exist. 

Pulling on his headphones, Ethan started up the computer. A pen sitting on the mostly organized mess of his desk drew his attention, and he looked to the bare pale skin of his wrist. Even though he had promised them he would stop writing or doodling - which he  _ did _ ,  _ it was hell -  _ he couldn't help but wonder. Something small wouldn't hurt.. He took the pen, contemplating for a moment before drawing a small heart near his wrist bone. 

Staring at it for a minute longer, he decided it was time to try dating again. 

(He didn't wash it off.) 

* * *

After downloading a few dating apps specifically for those without soulmates, he set up a minimalist profile and set the genders matched with to all. He was browsing through the matches, after he and Mark had finished filming a batch of Unus Annus videos for the next week. He would find himself staring at the small heart whenever he had the chance, hidden most of the time under his hoodie sleeves; thinking back on the promise he had made years ago. 

Ethan was almost 17, just trying to get through high school with half-decent grades; which meant a fair bit of cheating. There weren’t many sophisticated ways of doing that, and so he had resorted to using his arm - a lapse in judgement to be sure. His younger self was so embarrassed when he remembered that  _ yes, someone else was going to be stuck with those notes too. _

And so he had written a small, lame apology; not really expecting a response. They had written back and forth maybe once or twice beforehand, and Ethan got the clear message that they wanted jack shit to do with him. Sometimes he would scour the internet for ways to sever their connection, but to no avail. There just wasn’t enough people who were so rejecting of it for any meaningful scientific research to be done. The guilt he felt at being a nuisance, combined with the hard blows of rejection, and seeing others his age having long conversations on their arms and legs, had ruined his self esteem for a while. 

But he had never gone back on his promise until then, and Ethan was having a hard time feeling bad about it.  _ He  _ was stuck with them just as much as they were stuck with him. They could deal with it. 

If he ever met them, he thought, he’d give them a piece of his mind. 

The older man was driving the crew home, Ethan sitting in the passenger seat next to him. “Wh’cha lookin’ at?’ He asked, not taking his eyes off the road. An easy attempt at conversation. “Just a few dating apps. I’ve been feeling in a slump lately,” He shrugged, swiping left on someone. “Sounds fun.” Mark’s reply was distinctly void of emotion, making Ethan give him a look. “You okay dude?” “Yep.” And that was that. 

The interaction stuck in Ethan’s mind as Mark pulled up to his house. Even when the other was upset, their conversations were never that.. bland. “See you later man,” He spoke, the boy getting out and retrieving his stuff a moment later. "I'll text you later," Ethan replied, before stepping up to his porch. His phone dinged in his pocket as he got through the door, and he made a mental note to check it in a few minutes once he was more settled. 

After getting the camera he had brought with them put away, he went upstairs to his recording studio; flopping down on the couch and taking out his phone. The notification had been from one of his matches texting him. 

He had scored himself a date. 


	3. Chapter 3

It, in short, didn't go great. The awkward tension on its own was almost unbearable - but he just didn't click with them. Their dialog didn't flow in the way he was used to. (It hadn't clicked to him that's because of Mark until a while later, the realization making his heart twist)

Ethan had hastily excused himself out of the date, saying that someone needed him. He was never one for confrontation, but thankfully they also seemed to agree it wasn't going anywhere. Conveniently he did have to film with Mark later, so. 

"How'd your  _ date  _ go?" The words were laced with a surprising amount of disdain. Mark was putting a fresh set of batteries into the camera, and didn't even bother to look up at Ethan. "Shitty, man." He confessed, helping arrange the other props they were going to use. The boy didn't have much trouble discerning what was and wasn't a joke, Mark's words not sounding like they were in jest. "Does that.. Bother you?" He asked, both curious and annoyed. 

"No. But I was a little worried you were going to be late." Mark shrugged, "I figured you left is early, yeah? If you hadn't you'd probably still be there." That did make sense. The prick of irritation slid off him, and he sat down on the couch. "Yeah, okay, that's true. I promise I'll schedule future ones so they don't interfere with recording." He hummed, watching as Mark finished messing with the camera. 

The older man cracked a smile, "Thanks, Eth." The words were oddly sincere, but Ethan made a billion easy excuses for them in his head. Even though he had been more affectionate as of late, that didn't mean he liked him.  _ He wasn't sure why that mattered so much. It shouldn't.  _ "Well, if everything's set up, we might as well get started."

* * *

The next one went horribly. He shuddered whenever he remembered how entitled they were being to the wait staff, and how obnoxious they were being about the food. He had lasted about 15 minutes before snapping, telling them off, and storming out. His patience was running thinner.

His third outing went great. After checking and double-checking his schedule to make sure he wouldn’t miss anything again, Ethan agreed to go out. They had agreed on one of the local bars, moreso to eat than to drink; he wasn’t clueless enough to get drunk around a stranger. 

“So,” The man - Avery - rested his hands under his chin. “If you don’t mind me asking, and please tell me if I’m being too blunt: why  _ are  _ you looking?” He gestured to the almost-faded heart adorning Ethan’s wrist. “It seems you do have a soulmate, yes?” The boy swallowed. “Y-Yeah, I do. They just, they don’t..” He let his words trail off, twisting his fingers together under the table. Avery nodded. 

“That’s a shame. Some people are so far up their own ass and don’t realize they’re not the only ones in the world.” He shrugged, taking a bite of his salad. He had long-ish blonde hair, the back being slightly longer than Ethan’s, fluffy ends curling around his neck. A small black cross earring dangled from his left, and his eyes were flecked with gold. Ethan wasn’t going to lie to himself, he was attractive. “Since you asked, I guess I will too. Do you not have one? Or..” 

The man tilted his head, the faint ghost of a smile on his face. “I don’t. One of the unlucky - or lucky, based on how you see it - who never got one.” Avery shrugged, setting his hands back down against the table. “It’s nice to see those who do, though. And I get to meet people like you, so it isn’t all that bad.” 

Ethan’s face flushed, and he stared at his almost-empty plate before looking back up. “How do you know you don’t? Aside from never hearing from them.” The other’s eyes softened. “Just a feeling. Those things aren’t hard to figure out.” A comfortable silence fell over them while they ate, before Avery spoke up again. 

“I know your profile mentioned you freelance for a living, but what do you do specifically?” “Oh, right.” He knew it wasn’t the greatest-sounding position, but it did pay his bills and he had fun doing it. “I do youtube, and I’m lucky enough that it gets to be my full time job.” Avery peered on with interest, gesturing for Ethan to continue. “-It’s mostly gaming, but almost a year ago I started a channel just doing random shit with one of my best friends.” 

“That sounds exciting, I can’t imagine just being able to do whatever I want and get paid for it.” The other replied, eyes filled with interest. “The internet has changed so much over the course of just a few decades, it’s wild. Again, if you don’t mind me asking, what are some of the things you and your friend do?” “Oh god, basically everything. We’ve eaten fire, willingly get pepper sprayed, make diy cheese- Mark used spoiled milk, it smelled so fucking bad.” He giggled a bit at the memory. He was having a good time - but something was missing. 

The man across from him gave him a look he couldn’t quite understand. Something between a knowing glance and.. Dissapointment? “Is something on your mind?” 

The boy bit his lip, glancing down at his wrist. “I don’t know. I guess even though they don’t.. Want me, I still want them, I guess? And it’s funny,” He ran his fingers through his hair, laughing without humor. “-Because we’ve only written once or twice. And I could just  _ tell  _ they didn’t want it.” The other nodded. “I guess you wouldn’t know that feeling?” “I wouldn’t, unfortunately.”

“I’m sorry-” “Don’t be.” Avery hummed. “This happens all the time. But you know what I think?” Ethan fumbled over his words in embarrassment, “W-What?” 

“You go and find him. Something tells me he needs it just as much as you do.” The man stood up, pushing in his chair and leaving a generous tip on top of the cheque. “It was wonderful meeting you, Ethan. If you need anything, you can text me.” Avery stuck a hand in his pocket, giving Ethan the same look as before. “But I don’t think you’ll need it. Now go find your man, before you both regret it.” 

With that, he strode off - leaving the boy gawking at the empty space left behind.  _ How did he- What?  _ The waitress came over and picked up the cheque, wishing Ethan a good day - he managed to get a polite response out, even through his dumbfoundedness. 

The way his chest ached and tugged only proved Avery’s point though, and after a few minutes of considering he decided to go for it. When he got home, he took the same pen as before, and before he could talk himself out of it - he wrote. 

_ hey. It’s been a while, I think we should talk.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmaoo I hope Avery isn't too insufferable.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just letting you guys know that I have a crankiplier tumblr :] it's under the same name as here. I mostly post headcannons or just thoughts related to it, but sometimes I do art too
> 
> anyway enjoy da chapter. little short but yeah

After he had gotten done starting at the letters on his skin, he pulled the nearest hoodie over his head, tugging the sleeves down so they sat on the edge of his palms. Ethan wasn’t sure what he was expecting, really. Even if they (he?) would end up replying, they were probably busy and couldn’t get to it right that moment. 

Most people had obligations and a rigid schedule - even if he didn’t. So he went about his day, trying to ignore the urge to stare at his own writing. The spot stuck out in the various sensations, a small burning pull sitting in the back of his mind. It was stupid, he thought, to be so enamored with a single thing. 

Ethan slowly shifted back and forth on his chair, typing lazily at his keyboard. Responding to emails was such a terribly monotonous activity, and he craved some sort of excitement. He had gotten a few videos recorded and sent off to be edited, and was just fighting time before he got tired enough to give in to sleep.

Quiet background music filled the air. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before pulling them away from the screen, they were burning. It was then that he decided that he had been productive enough, and he stood up; hastily shutting off the computer and pushing in his chair. The boy stumbled over to the couch, laying on his side and facing the cushions. Spencer’s claws clicked on the floor, him coming over to inspect Ethan. 

“Hey bub,” He mumbled, turning onto his back and lazily scratching in between the dog’s ears. “I’ll be sleepin’ soon, don’t worry.” Spencer seemed satisfied with his answer, and retreated back to his dog bed by the desk. Ethan watched him go, letting out a yawn. 

There was more writing on his arm. 

He sat up immediately, frantically pulling up the sleeve to reveal the rest of it. 

_ Why now? _

_ It’s been almost 10 years _

The words pierced his heart like a knife, and he started wide-eyed at it for a moment longer before getting off of the couch and retrieving the same pen as before. 

_ because I’m fucking stuck with you _

_ that’s why _

A reply came back faster than he expected. 

_ That doesn’t mean we have to communicate  _

_ I love someone _

_ why are you so fucking stubborn  _

_ like seriously? _

_ we don’t have to date _

_ I just want to know who the hell I got stuck with _

_ is that so much to ask _

The text was beginning to fill his arm. Ethan moved to the other without a second thought. The anger bubbling in his chest surprised him, but 10 years of nothing but short replies from his fucking  _ soulmate  _ will do that. 

_ you’re an asshole _

_ I know _

_ You think I haven’t heard that before? _

_ Okay, we can talk _

_ But you’re not getting my name  _

He sighed, taking the pen with him and shutting off the lights to his recording studio; before heading into his bedroom. 

_ I don’t want it _

* * *

Even though it was blazing summer, Ethan continued to wear hoodies, crewnecks, anything with long sleeves. He didn’t have the heart to wash off their conversation, opting to cover it up instead. There was no way he was going to show it to Mark, after all - not after their conversation a while back. 

Sun rays beat down on his face as he walked down the semi-crowded sidewalk. He had felt like walking to Mark’s house instead of driving, in an attempt to try and sort through his thoughts. Ethan was relieved that they were  _ finally  _ writing back to him, even if they were almost as dry as the last time it had happened. 

Stuffing his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, he kept his gaze trained firmly on the concrete. The boy wasn’t sure where he was planning to go with his soulmate. Despite the fact they didn’t want to talk to him (And they even said they loved someone else, for god's sake) Ethan still felt the pull to find them. It felt like strings tied around his wrists, pulling him along and leading him through the path. Some would call it destiny. 

But Ethan had given up on that word a long time ago. 

Maybe he could at least be friends with them. They seemed less susceptible to the natural feelings of want and yearning practically everyone in the world had felt and continues to feel towards their soulmate. Ethan wasn’t any different. But if it meant he could be on writing terms, and not be completely ignored; he could push those feelings deep into the recesses of his mind. 

He turned off the sidewalk and onto the thinner slabs of concrete leading to Mark’s house. The way there had been ingrained in him for years now, and at this point he could probably get there blindfolded. 

Sliding the key into the lock, he twisted the door open and stepped inside; locking it behind him. Mark was sitting on the couch, ruffling Chica’s fur and cooing at her. A smile found its way onto his face, and he let himself stare for a moment longer. The other man looked up at him, fondness in his eyes. “Oh hey man! I didn’t hear you come in.” 

“Yeah, I figured being a little early wouldn’t hurt. We haven’t had much time to hang out lately outside of filming.” Ethan shrugged, sitting down on the armrest and scratching Chica’s chin. Mark nodded, watching the boy’s movements. “I noticed, we’ve both been busy with separate things too.” He tilted his head, crossing his ankles together before adding:

“Hopefully we get more time to do that soon, if you’re not busy.” 

Ethan's hand stumbled as he pulled it away from Chica, putting it back in his pocket with the other. Heat crept up his neck, and he hoped to god it wasn't too noticeable. "Y-Yeah, I'd like that." 

Even if he didn't get to have his soulmate, he still had Mark. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> peep the updated chapter count, gotz one more left (and maybe an epilogue if enough people want that, idk)

_ how was your day? _

_ It was fine.  _

He rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to leave a snarky reply. 

_ okay  _

The boy resumed combing his hair, scrutinizing his appearance in the bathroom mirror. He and Mark had finally set up a time they could get together outside of filming for Unus Annus, and he wanted to look  _ somewhat  _ presentable. 

He wasn’t exactly sure why, though.

Shrugging off the sliver of doubt, he pushed a few stray hairs into place. It really had been a while since they’ve done something, even if tonight they were just ordering food and playing video games. 

After looking himself over one more time, Ethan decided it was best not to overdo it; stepping out of the bathroom and grabbing his phone off the bed. 

**4:29 | Eef:** omw soon :P

Not bothering to wait for a reply, he sat down onto the mattress and pulled on a nice pair of shoes. It wasn’t like they were dress shoes for a ball, or whatever. But they were nice enough he didn’t feel like he was going over to Mark’s house in messy clothes. He wore one of his long sleeve button-ups that had made a few appearances in videos, and a dark pair of well-fitting jeans. 

Ethan gave a last glance to his arm, seeing that they had replied. 

_ Please don’t write to me tonight. I’m busy. _

Irritation sat in the back of his mind. The feeling had been present more often lately, ever since he had been reaching out to them again. They had written back and forth at least 4 times since the initial contact, mostly when Ethan was bored enough to risk feeling shitty for the rest of the day; depending on their mood. 

The boy pulled the cuffs down to his wrist from where they were resting on his bicep, buttoning it so it wouldn’t come undone. Taking his phone, he put it in his pocket and half ran down the stairs, snagging his keys off of the kitchen table. Mark was more important than them, anyway. 

* * *

Ethan giggled, leaning against the back of the couch. They were playing Mario Kart, half empty boxes of food (they had chosen pizza) sitting on the table in front of the tv. 

“Man, it feels like we haven’t done this in forever.” Mark grinned, watching as Ethan set up the next round. 

“It basically has been, when’s the last time we just hung out, not for a video?” 

The other’s smile faltered a bit. “Yeah… I guess that’s mostly my fault. I have little time anymore, working on Heist 2, Unus Annus, and making stuff for my channel. I’m sorry about that, Eth.” 

Turning to look at Mark, the boy offered him a shrug. “It’s okay. We’ll just have to make more of an effort until Unus Annus ends, I guess.” He reached over and pulled a slice out of the box, setting down the controller next to cardboard. “It’s no worry though, really. I can feel you beating yourself up over it from here.” 

Mark laughed quietly, pulling his legs up so they were using the once empty space in between them. The touchiness hadn’t gone away, but it had toned down into how Ethan normally was. It was nice. Ethan had never been very fond of the “Don’t touch me” bit. Being able to have such casual touches with his friend, like he craved, and having it reciprocated? He couldn’t ask for much more than that. 

When he finished off the slice of pizza, they resumed playing; sitting in relative silence save for the game’s audio and the occasional joke. 

“You've been up to much lately?” The older man spoke up. Grown tired of the game, the tv sat on the home page waiting for them to pick out another title. 

“Not really. I mean, the channel takes up most of my time, even mine has been kinda put on the back-burner until it’s over.” 

A pause.

“What about your.. dating excursions?” The tone Mark spoke it in was an odd one, something Ethan couldn’t figure out on the spot like normal. 

“Most of them sucked.” He laughed, crossing his legs and leaning towards Mark a bit. “One of them was nice. But none of it felt right.” There was no way he was going to tell the details of his date, and what had been told to him by Avery. It didn’t matter. “So I gave up on ‘em, for now at least.” 

“I mean, I don’t wanna say that I’m happy. But I was holding back on asking to hang out more while you were.. doing that. Didn’t want to interfere.”

Ethan smiled, resting his palms against his knees. “You’re right. More time for us then, right?”

He found that he wasn’t very upset over his failed dates, sitting there with Mark, a warm feeling bubbling in his chest. The boy knew he had some sort of feelings, always had. Idol worship turned to genuine love (platonic love, definitely) It wasn’t the worst thing to be pushed by the universe into spending more time with his friend. 

“Right.”

Hours ticked by as they went through a few more selections, picking over the remains of the food until all the plastic and cardboard containers lay barren. Both had loosened up a little, Ethan unclasping a few of the buttons from his shirt and cuffs, resting easier against his body. Mark had unzipped his cloak bomber jacket (to Ethan’s delight, he hadn’t been the only one to dress up a little) hair growing more unruly as the evening went on. 

The older man heaved himself off of the couch, brushing the hair out of his face. “I’ll be right back, Eth. Gonna put on something a little less heavy.” He whipped off the jacket, lazily tossing it against the armrest of the couch. Before he disappeared up the stairs, Ethan saw it. 

Although he couldn’t read all the words, writing matching the ones on his arm sat plainly on Mark’s forearm. A perfect clone. 

His brain short-circuited, staring at the empty space where Mark had been moments before. Things he had never wanted to connect slid into place, completing the mystery that was his soulmate. 

“You okay there?” Mark frowned. He was back. 

Ethan blinked, trying to keep himself from running out the door right then. “Y-Yeah, sorry, I got distracted.” 

He gave the boy a raised eyebrow, but didn’t push it, sitting back down on the couch. 

The rest of the night was less relaxed. 

When Mark had mentioned getting tired, Ethan had excused himself, wished the other a good night, and left. His world felt like it was crumbling at his feet, ripping at the seams despite his best effort to repair them.  _ Mark was his soulmate.  _

Just thinking those words made him tense, hands gripping tighter on the wheel as his eyes narrowed into tunnel vision. It made sense.  _ Of course it did.  _ But he really wished it didn’t. Wished it was a fluke in the system, a mis-written line of code, anything but the truth. Mark didn’t want his soulmate.  _ Mark didn’t want him.  _

Pulling into the nearest store’s parking lot, he whipped out his phone, texting whoever he thought would console him the soonest. 

A familiar blonde mop of hair stood out in the bar's crowd, and with a relieved sigh Ethan hurried over. His eyes were burning from constantly rubbing them, the redness clearly defined. Avery was in a more casual outfit than the last time they met, sandy hair pulled into a small ponytail. 

“Trouble in paradise?” He quipped as Ethan sat down, frowning. The boy exhaled loudly, scrubbing his face with the palms of his hands for a moment. 

“Yeah. It’s- I didn’t feel like typing it out over text,” Shrugging, he tapped his nails against the tavern’s table. “I got a little overwhelmed. I guess I should’ve just called instead.” Guilt sat heavy in his chest, his already unstable emotions threatening to spill over again. 

“Don’t worry about it, Ethan. What happened?” Avery turned to face the other better, crossing his legs and placing intertwined hands in his lap. 

Ethan’s fingernails dug into his thigh, and he grimaced at remembering the day’s events. “M-Mark, the guy I told you about?” The blonde raised an eyebrow, nodding along. “Yeah, he’s uh…” His eyes flicked down to his covered arms, the sleeves feeling like they were tightening around them. “My s-soulmate.” He hated how his voice choked around the word, like it was coughing up something stuck in his throat. 

“Oh?” 

The boy bit his lip, looking anywhere but the man in front of him. “He didn’t... He doesn’t know that I know. At least I don’t think he does. I sort of- sort of bolted when I saw..” Ethan wiped away a tear that hadn’t fallen yet, trying to regain his composure. “My writing. It was just for a moment.” 

Avery hummed sympathetically, seeming to think for a minute. “You mentioned last time we met that he didn’t.. want you?” His voice softened as he spoke, trying to comfort Ethan the best he could. 

“Th-That’s the part. I don’t mind that he’s-” The boy didn’t repeat the phrase, but the other party knew what he meant. “I kind of like that. I guess I like him. And he’s so nice to me in person,” A ghost of a smile found its way onto his face momentarily. “I guess- I don’t. I don’t know.” Ethan swallowed. “It’s a lot. I feel like my brain won’t stop to think or understand anything. Information just keeps coming and I don’t know how to handle it.” 

“Do you want water?” 

Ethan shrugged, tugging the sleeve of his hoodie over his hand. “I guess, yeah. Thank you.” 

When the bartender came back around to their spot, Avery asked for the requested drink; it being brought in front of them a minute later. Ethan took the chilled glass, cradling it in his hands and taking a sip. The ice stung his teeth, and even though it was an unpleasant sensation, it helped ground him back to Earth. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes as the boy drank, his hands shaking less and less until he felt somewhat normal again. 

“Okay, I think I’m good.” He set the almost empty cup back on the bar, shoving his now-icy hands back into his pockets. “Now I'm just conflicted.”

"About if you should tell him?" Avery guessed, giving Ethan an inquisitive look. 

"Yeah. All I can think of is what could go wrong." 

The other man took a sip of his own colorful drink, humming in thought. "Would it help if you walked through it out loud to me? Like, each scenario. You know Mark better than I do." 

“It’s worth a try?”

“Hit me with it.”

“Option one. I don’t tell him. We move on with our lives like nothing happened. He doesn’t end up hating me, finds…” Ethan swallowed, staring at the floor. “I find someone else. We stay friends. Doesn’t seem that bad.” He bounced his leg, thinking again. “Option two. I tell him. He cuts me off-”

“Do you really think he’d do that?” 

“-He really, really doesn’t like the idea of being stuck with someone; at least from what I’ve gathered when he wrote to me years ago and a conversation we had recently. He cuts me off, it ruins our channel, we never speak again.”

Avery frowned, setting down his drink. “What about the other side of that? If he doesn’t cut you off?”

He didn’t reply, leg moving more rapidly than before. “I don’t think that’s an option.”

“Ethan, n-”

The boy stood up abruptly, fishing out his wallet and taking out a 5. “Thanks for coming out to help me with my crisis,” He laughed softly, setting down the bill on the bar. “And for the water. I think I know what to do now.” 


	6. Chapter 6

He started pulling away. 

Ethan didn’t  _ mean  _ to - but when you find out your best friend is your soulmate and also was a huge dick to you not  _ knowing  _ it was you, the subconscious takes over a bit. Their videos, while still good, suffered. Jokes weren’t landing as well as they normally did, the boy drawing away from casual touches. 

If he did it well, Mark wouldn’t notice. 

(He didn’t do it well.) 

The will to respond to Mark’s texts dwindled, eventually only talking to discuss when they’d be filming for Unus Annus next. It hurt to stay away, but his brain was stronger than his heart. He’d get his break, get over his feelings, and everything would be back to normal. 

Right?

* * *

Mark noticed almost immediately. The way Ethan would oh-so-casually shift away when he rested a hand on his shoulder, or when they sat too close together on the couch. The normal touchiness of the boy was gone, left only with a hollow feeling in both their videos and their friendship. 

He tried to go back through recent events, looking for  _ anything  _ that could’ve happened (or anything that he did) that would’ve caused such a reaction. Nothing. Something must’ve happened behind the scenes, something Ethan didn’t want to tell him. 

Guilt would sit in his gut, a heavy unwanted feeling, whenever he sat at his computer looking over past footage of them.  _ He had done this.  _ He just didn’t know how. 

In an attempt to respect his friend’s privacy, he didn’t do anything about it at first. Aside from the occasional  _ ‘maybe we should reshoot this bit’  _ when they didn’t pan out properly, Mark almost pretended it wasn’t happening. It was easier that way, to ignore the problems causing a rift between them. 

But when Ethan didn’t reply to his text asking about filming, he had to do something. 

Mark wouldn’t let whatever the hell was wrong with them affect their channel, especially so close to its death date. It was going to end with a bang, and that couldn’t happen how they had envisioned if they could barely get a filming day planned out. 

So, in a reckless act that he really,  _ really  _ didn’t think through, he went to Ethan’s house to confront the issue head on. Mark couldn’t dance around it for any longer - the suspense was killing him. 

He knocked on the familiar door, anxiety thrumming through his body. After he waited a few minutes longer, Mark pulled out the spare key, sliding it into the lock and quietly pushing it open. 

The house was well kept (cleaner than his would ever be) even in Ethan's… 

Mark swallowed, locking the door behind him and looking around. No food trash on the table, no clothes on the floor - it looked normal. At least he could take comfort that Ethan was still well enough to take care of the place. 

"Eth?" He called out, walking into the living room. 

Nothing. 

Mark frowned, letting his eyes wander across the bunched up blanket sitting in the corner, and the controller placed on top of it.  _ Maybe he was asleep?  _

His train of thought stopped there.  _ Was he really going to intrude into his best friend's room? Just because he felt wrong?  _ Even though he couldn't pin-point exactly what it was, it was definitely there. Ethan had to feel it too. 

But something was nagging at his gut, an ache (?) he couldn't rid himself from. And at the center of it all - Ethan.  _ Surely he wouldn't mind too much, right?  _

He would leave if Ethan asked him to. 

Walking over to the stairs, he stared up the dark hallway for a minute before heading up. Mark tried to walk as quietly as he could, cringing at the occasional wheeze or creak of floorboards. 

When he got to the top of the steps, he automatically made his way to Ethan's room. He had been in there more times than he could count, sometimes for actual recording sessions, sometimes just goofing off. The bedroom door was ever so slightly left open, a faint beam of light spilling out into the dark of the hall. 

With slightly trembling hands, he let his fingers rest in the plaster, using the smallest amount of strength to open it. 

A familiar lump was laying in the bed, facing away from the door. The duvet was pulled to Ethan's neck, only leaving his fluffy mop of hair visible. Mark exhaled sharply, practically tip-toeing over. "Eth? Are you alright?"

Ethan shifted, and Mark honestly couldn't tell if he was still asleep or not. Not wanting to start off bad, he rested his hand against the mattress instead of Ethan’s shoulder like he wanted to. 

“Mark?” A quiet voice spoke up, the covered up form that was Ethan visibly tensing. 

“...Yeah.” 

“Why’re you here?” His tone was flat, like he had to force out every word through gritted teeth.

The older man took a step back, scratching the inside of his palm. “I, uh, wanted to check on you.”

Slowly, Ethan sat up in bed and pushed the covers off. His bed head was more evident, eyes only half open and dull with sleep. “You weren’t supposed to notice.” 

Mark fought the urge to wrap the boy into a hug, instead opting for stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Wh-What?” 

He flicked the hair out of his face, looking less tired and more resigned. “I just needed a break.”

“From what?” 

“From  _ you.”  _

It felt like he was frozen in place, shoes stuck to the carpeted floor. 

Ethan huffed, flipping his legs over the bed and giving the other an unimpressed look. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

“Sorry, I-” Mark’s voice dropped off, the writing on Ethan’s arms catching his eye. 

Their owner scratched at the blurry inked skin, running his thumb over it. “Ever the observant one, Mark.” 

“Only for you. Is this about- I don’t understand?” 

“Of course you wouldn’t. You- You’re so smart but you act so  _ stupid!”  _ His voice raised into a dull yell, other hand digging into the discarded duvet. “Sometimes I feel like you’re purposely- purposely like that. But you’re just dense.” 

The insult didn’t sting like it should - because Ethan was right. Mark cringed, but didn’t move from his spot a foot away from the other.

Ethan continued. “-And I’d love if you could just  _ guess,  _ because goddamn if the words don’t make me want to curl up and disappear - but we’d be here for hours.” There weren’t yet tears in his eyes, but by the way they were narrowing, they’d probably be there soon enough. 

“Can I touch you?” Mark whispered, hands twitching. 

“Please don’t.”

A beat. 

“Okay.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, he looked back down at the script on pale flesh. “It’s you.” 

Mark frowned, an unpleasant feeling churning in his stomach. He had an idea. What would be akin to a prayer, if he was religious. But he wouldn’t dare think about it. “W-What?” 

“Y-” Ethan stared helplessly at the other, trying to find the words. “You’re my soulmate.”

“Wh-”

“And you don’t  _ want  _ me. You,” He rubbed the corners of his eyes, curling into himself. “You don’t want it.”

If his heart could collapse, it would’ve. Mark felt his vision grow cloudy, a dull ringing fading into his ears. And that was it, wasn’t it? The thing he feared ever since he laid eyes on Ethan. Memories of him resenting his soulmate, pushing them after and farther away because he Ethan was right - he hadn’t wanted them. 

Only in the dark of the night, when his brain was blurry with sleep and thinking of fantasies that would never come to pass - that’s when he’d imagine it. If Ethan was his. It’d always hurt, it’d burn his chest like a searing knife, a pain so deeply rooted in his soul he couldn’t claw it away; he couldn’t escape. In the morning, after those midnights laying awake, he’d forget. Push them into the smallest box he could and banish it away, because he was too afraid to face the truth.

The sheer  _ idea  _ that he’d been so cruel to Ethan, unknowing and unforgiving. Mark couldn’t fathom what the kid had gone through, because he  _ was  _ a kid, when he had put his foot down and stopped responding, ceased contact with a teenager just wanting approval. 

All the stories of fate, even crueler than he’d been; forcing two together despite the differences, despite the past, despite what either wanted - because it knew better than them. 

“Mark?”

He was back in reality.

Ethan was standing in front of him, hand grabbing at his wrist; warm, despite the circumstances. “Are you there? W- What happened?” 

“ _ Ethan.”  _ Mark whimpered, tears brimming in his eyes. “I’m- I’m so fucking sorry. I want you. I want you so bad. I pushed away-” He swallowed. “My soulmate. I didn’t even want to know his name. I pushed him away because I didn’t want to be another pawn of fate, and eventually, because I wanted you. I’m-” He took hold of Ethan’s arm, thumbing over the writing on the inside, writing  _ he  _ had made. “I’m so stupid. I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this.” 

The boy frowned, but didn’t pull away from his grip. “Okay- That’s, okay. I’m not… I’m not going to forgive you right away.” He tilted his head, biting his lip. “I will, eventually. I just- I need some time. To accept things. Okay?”

Mark nodded. 

“I don’t hate you. I couldn’t in my wildest dreams. I promise we’ll- we’ll figure things out. Just not right now.” 

“Okay. Do you want me to go, Eth?” 

Ethan let go of his wrist, walking back towards his bed and pulling the duvet over the mattress. “Yeah- For now, at least. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?” 

* * *

When Mark got home, there was a small heart drawn near his elbow. 

A promise for their future. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys so so much for all the support on this fic. we're almost at 400 kudos which is fucking wild to me. even though the work is technically complete, I will add an epilogue wrapping it up for good sometime in the near future :]   
> for now, thank you again. even though I don't respond to comments unless it's a specific question, I read them all and they give me life, and are the reason I keep writing. 
> 
> n until the epilogue is done, mayb check out my other multi-chapter fic weird autumn. it's (probably) (hopefully) gonna be over 20k words .


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the actual ending)

Everyone said that the day you kissed your soulmate, it felt like the stars would align. On the rare occasion the pair was purely platonic, that would be replaced with another act of genuine care. 

It was no different for Mark and Ethan. 

Mark, doing his best to respect Ethan's boundaries, had laid off on the normal affection he wanted to provide his soulmate. Eventually, the boy had gotten tired of Mark's timidness, grabbing his hand and pulling their lips together. 

And  _ that  _ was when there was no going back. Everything that had been leading up to that point could've been reversed, if one of them had truly wanted. 

A bond sealed, a puzzle completed, sitting on the table to be looked back on in the future for reminiscence.

Those things were as old as time. 

Those things never changed.

* * *

Ethan snaked his hands around Mark's waist, resting his chin on broad shoulders. "Maaa-ark,  _ baby _ , you've been working on the script for hours. Come cuddle with me?" 

The older man rested his head back against the weight that was Ethan, pressing a kiss to his fluffy brown hair. "Just gimme a few more minutes, Eth. I don't want to waste the motivation that's hit me." 

He could feel the sigh from where their backs were connected, before Ethan slowly drew back. "I'll be waiting, okay?" 

Mark turned around, reveling in the causal way the boy pecked his lips.

"I promise I won't be long." 

Ethan gave him a gentle smile, fondness swirling in his eyes as he headed out to the living room. 

“Finally,” Ethan threw his legs over Mark’s lap, a satisfied smirk on his face. “I swear you were out there for another hour.”

“It was five minutes.” 

“Too long,” The boy hummed, leaning forward so their noses were almost touching. “You work yourself too hard, sometimes. I know you’re passionate about your projects, darling, just remember to take breaks a little more.” Ethan pressed a chaste kiss to the tip of Mark’s nose, moving back into his own space. 

Mark lifted the legs on his own, maneuvering Ethan so he was pressed against his side. The boy caught on quickly, wrapping an arm around the older man’s waist and worming even closer. 

“I love you,” Ethan mumbled, eyes falling shut as Mark pulled the bunched up blanket over their bottom-halves. 

“I love you too.”

Using the arm resting on the top of the couch, Mark reached down and started rhythmically threading his fingers through Ethan's soft hair, the quiet noise of contentment making his heart swell. 

The tv quietly droned on in the background, meaningless words muffled by thoughts of love. 

* * *

Amy had been the first to notice. 

It would be hard not to, seeing as the moment they would cut the cameras their long-sleeved hoodies and jackets would be thrown off with excuses of being hot; small messages and grocery lists matching on both of their arms. 

Mark didn’t think they were being  _ that  _ obvious until Amy had came up to him after filming, wishing them well and how she was: “Glad they finally figured it out.”

The rest of their friends slowly found out, either from being told directly or just picking up the extremely obvious signs. Tyler was particularly unimpressed when Mark had told him, just shaking his head and commenting how he’d already known for months. 

They didn’t release a public statement to the fans; some things were best left up to speculation. 

Although Ethan hadn’t told Avery directly, the man knew from the radio silence what had happened. He deleted his contact, glancing over their months-old messages with a smile. Sometimes people just needed a nudge in the right direction.

And if the universe had done its meddling, nobody had to know. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short and sweet.   
> thank you all for the massive support on this fic :}


End file.
